


When Tenderness Rages

by badboy_fangirl



Series: Incidents in the Life of Lincoln Burrows [7]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 04:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: Lincoln can't live without Veronica.





	When Tenderness Rages

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written (in this series) from Michael's POV, but it felt necessary to move this chunk along. Title lifted from Garth Brooks' "The Red Strokes."

Veronica managed to keep a grip on herself until she got to Michael’s dorm. When he opened the door, she collapsed in tears against his chest, and lost all sense of her surroundings as he dragged her inside, settling her down on his bed. She cried and cried, no words escaping, but then none were needed. Michael would know what was going on simply because she couldn’t control herself. Once the tears started, she didn’t know if they would ever stop.

At some point he levered her back to get a towel under her nose. She wiped at her face miserably, and to no specific end, because the tears wouldn’t stop, even when the words finally started. She fell into an exhausted sleep sometime after midnight while Michael’s hands stroked her hair and made her forget long enough to slip away that it wasn’t Lincoln who held her, and that it never would be again.

She woke the next morning, unable to move because Michael had tucked her into his body. At some point they had both turned over on to their stomachs and his chest was pressed halfway across her back, holding her down on the bed. He was still sleeping, she could feel the even rhythm of his chest into her back, so she just lay there, examining what had transpired in less than two weeks time to completely ruin the happiness she had just begun to take for granted.

The problem was she wasn’t entirely sure. She could see what she was angry with Lincoln about, and she could even see, how in the heat of the moment, they had made some rash decisions. But she couldn’t understand how they had broken up. She loved him, and had no reason not to want to work it out. Not that she relished telling people her boyfriend was in jail, but in reality it didn’t matter to her. All that mattered was Lincoln.

But Lincoln, as he had appeared yesterday, wasn’t familiar to her. Whether shame for his actions or fury at her for whatever reason had driven him to the point of uncontainable anger, she didn’t know. All she did know was she had left him there, alone, and she felt terrible about it. “Michael?” she whispered.

She felt him shift, heard him grunt an acknowledgement. 

“You have to go see Lincoln.” He finally turned so that he wasn’t lying on top of her anymore and she moved too, flipping over to look into his face. “You have to go see him. You have to keep him centered. He’s such a mess, yesterday, you don’t understand…” Veronica could feel the tears start to come again.

“If I go see him, we’ll probably just get in a fight,” Michael mumbled, emerging from his deep slumber. “I’ll tell him what an ass he is for breaking up with you and he’ll come back with some witty remark about how he knew it would never work out and then I’ll say, ‘Oh, this is the same conversation we’ve had since 1989.’ No, thanks.” He dropped his arm over his eyes and shifted completely on to his back.

Veronica’s hand plucked at his t-shirt. “Don’t do that. Don’t tell him how bad he’s screwed up and all that. He already knows, and he can beat himself up worse than you ever could, anyway. Just go over and see him. Tell him you don’t understand him, but you love him. Be his brother.” She pressed her fingers into his chest. “Please, Michael. Do what I can’t do now. Be the smart one, be the kind one. Please.”

He lifted his arm to cut her an irritated glance. “Vee…”

“Please,” she insisted.

“Oh, all right. But I do this under duress!”

 

**~**

 

Michael had been to see Lincoln a handful of times during his previous stay in jail. It had always been awkward, but he’d done it out of necessity. Usually he went with news about LJ or the state of their finances, or just to shoot the breeze, but he knew Lincoln hated it when he came and wished he wouldn’t.

Part of him wanted to go just to annoy his brother. Part of him did it for Veronica, because he loved her too, and she had been such a big part of his life for as long as he could remember. The rest of him did it because he loved and worshipped Lincoln, no matter what Lincoln did. Being mad at him was becoming easier, the older he got, but like Veronica he understood how Lincoln got himself into these situations and he felt guilty because of it. He felt guilty because he wasn’t a street kid, even though he should’ve been. He wasn’t a street kid because of Lincoln. He was a college student at Loyola with exams and labs and homework. He was just what he appeared to be. Except he was an orphan, and the only person in the world who understood him was the man who sat down and stared at him through the plastic window.

“Hi, Linc,” he said a moment later into the phone. “How’s it going?”

“Fantastic, smartass,” Lincoln responded dryly.

“What happened to your face?” Michael asked with concern. Lincoln’s left eye was bruised and a little swollen.

“I got into it yesterday with my cellmate,” he responded, his voice clipped.

Michael decided not to even touch that. “So, Vee came by last night…” Michael didn’t even have to finish the thought before he saw the tracks of broken dreams across his brother’s face. “She’s in a bad way.” Just like you, you fool.

“It’s better this way,” was all Lincoln said, though his face was so filled with heartache that Michael had pain in his chest.

“How is it better, if you’re both miserable without each other?”

“She’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, because that’s worked so well in the past.”

“Michael,” Lincoln’s tone changed suddenly from sad to angry. “Shut up. This is the way it is. Did you just come down here to torment me with it? I’m the only one losing here. She’ll be better off, once she gets over it.”

Michael stared at his brother’s face, sadly understanding that the break-up had only to do with how Lincoln viewed the situation. Perhaps he had been trying to force Vee into breaking up with him; she had talked about what she had done wrong, and how she could have handled it better, been more supportive, whatever, but the truth was Lincoln was looking for a way out—a way out for Veronica. “Explain it to me, again, Linc. The part about me being such a great kid, the part where I need to open up and let myself get in deep with one of these girls I date. Tell me how I should tell them all the things I feel, even though most of the time the craziness of my mind scares the hell out of me, so how could someone with a regular brain ever be okay with that? Tell me how I’m supposed to do that when you don’t make it work with the girl you’ve been in love with your whole life? It’s not like I’ve got any other role models, here.”

“I fuckin’ hate it when you psycho-analyze me.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have let me go to the therapist for four years so I could figure all this out.”

“Mike, the difference between you and me is that you’re going somewhere. You have something to offer besides love. All I have to offer Vee is that. Look at me,” Lincoln gestured to the cubicle he sat in. “I’m going to be in and out of this place probably all my life.”

“Oh, that’s a great plan,” Michael snapped, his anger getting the better of him. “Why don’t you make a decision right here, right now, that you aren’t going to do anything else to get yourself thrown in jail?!”

“Because I can’t, okay! I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to live a life like that.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “And what kind of idiot would spend his life with someone who’s going to study the law when his specialty is breaking it?”

“Oh, come on, like this is about that. This isn’t about your criminal career or Vee going to law school. This is so about you thinking she’s too good for—“

“Michael, shut up,” Lincoln shouted. The guards were instantly behind him, but Michael couldn’t hear what they said. Lincoln nodded his head and then said, “I gotta go.”

“We’ve still got 15 minutes,” Michael said, pointing at his watch.

“No, I’m about to punch you through the partition here, and I got into trouble yesterday, losing my temper. I’m checking out before I do something stupid again.”

He stood up and didn’t even say goodbye. Michael watched the guards escort him to the door that led back to the prison cells. The helpless feeling he had suffocated him. Quickly, he got to his feet and walked out, practically running by the time he got to the door that led outside. There was nothing he could do to help Lincoln, mostly because Lincoln didn’t want help. By the time he got to his car, he felt a hardness forming around his heart. He loved his brother, but how much could he take? How much should he take? Veronica wanted him to be supportive, of what? He didn’t know and he thought he might not care very much either.

 

**~**

 

Three weeks after Lincoln got out of jail, Michael got back to his dorm after class one day and heard a disturbingly long message on his answering machine. Lincoln was obviously drunk, and the content of the message didn’t make much sense, just some mumbling about Veronica and angry shouts that amounted to nothing. An aggressive growl showcased the end of the message and then an abrupt hang up cut off with a loud dial tone. Michael looked around at his roommate, Steve, and Steve just shook his head. “I was in the bathroom, when I got back he was in mid-tirade, so I just let the machine go. He sounds bad, Mike. What’s the deal?”

“Who knows,” Michael shrugged, acting as though it didn’t bother him. He had seen Lincoln only a few days before, and he’d seemed all right. He was always in a bad mood, and he hardly ever smiled, but Michael had just accepted that this was life post-Veronica. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he checked the clock. It wasn’t even four o’clock in the afternoon. Then it occurred to him that it was Wednesday, and Lincoln should have been at work. He knew the construction company had already started up for the spring because it had been abnormally dry for the end of April. Michael looked on it as good luck so Lincoln would have something to do with his time, since he was not going to try to set things right with his ex-girlfriend.

Veronica had been a valiant little soldier, doing her best to get through it, but calling Michael every week like a machine to find out how Lincoln was. She didn’t attempt to contact him directly, instead trying to respect the decision that his dumb ass brother had made. “Dammit,” Michael muttered. “I better go over there and see what the hell’s up. This stupid break-up of theirs is ruining my life!”

Steve offered a sympathetic expression and moved out of Michael’s way so he could get out the door.

 

**~**

 

Lincoln sat his truck in the parking lot of his apartment complex when Michael drove in. At first, Michael didn’t even notice him, but then the truck started up and he leapt out of his own car, knowing his brother was in no condition to drive. He jerked open the truck’s door and demanded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Lincoln’s bleary but belligerent gaze focused on his brother. “I’m going to go talk to Vee.”

“What?” Michael asked, dumbfounded. “No, you’re not! You’re not driving down there. Lincoln, you’re totally drunk!”

“I need to talk to her.”

“So call her.”

“I can’t call her, it’s too important. I can’t say it over the phone…” His hand reached out and grasped Michael’s shirt, twisting the material tight around Michael’s torso. Then he gave a mighty shove, knocking Michael back against his little beater car.

When his hand moved to pull the door shut, Michael leapt forward again, placing his hand on the door. “If you want to go see her, I’ll take you down there. But Linc, you should wait. Wait until you’re sober.”

“No,” Lincoln said, shaking his head desolately. “No. If I wait, I’ll never do it, I’ll never tell her…”

“Tell her what? What do you want to tell her?” Michael asked, pushing Lincoln across the seat so he could climb into the truck.

“I’ve got to tell her…oh, God. I’m such a fuck up, Mike. I can’t live without her, I miss her so much, I feel like my guts have torn my heart straight down…” His description, while making no sense, was illustrated by a broad hand gesture that encompassed his torso, from his neck to his groin. It seemed everything inside him hurt, and by the look on his face, Michael found that easy to comprehend.

“I’ll drive you down there, if you want me too.” Michael waited while Lincoln got his legs over the stick shift and settled on the passenger side of the car. “But you can’t drive yourself down there.”

“I don’t care who drives,” Lincoln said miserably, his head lolling dangerously while he dragged a hand through his hair. 

Michael thought his brother might start crying, which would be very uncomfortable. “Okay, I’ll take you. Linc, seriously, man, how much have you had to drink? Why aren’t you at work?”

Lincoln’s head came to rest on the windowpane of the passenger side door and Michael shut his door and put the truck in gear. “I’ve been like this for two days. I haven’t gone to work.”

“You’ve been drunk for two days?”

“I thought it would stop hurting, but it just got worse.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, backing the truck up. Note to self, he thought darkly, never, ever fall in love.

 

**~**

 

Veronica had just closed her U.S. Government book, setting it aside. She couldn’t decide what subject to start on next, because she had Calculus and History to pick from, neither of which appealed to her at all. She opened her desk drawer, searching for her pencil sharpener. If she decided to do the Calculus, she needed sharp pencils. She moved a pile of papers, hoping the small plastic sharpener was under it, but all she uncovered was a collection of photographs. She pulled them out, thumbing through them. They were all from the previous summer, when she, Lincoln, Michael and LJ had taken a trip up to Lake Michigan. She smiled as she remembered the fun they had swimming and playing on the beach, and the monstrous sandcastles they’d built. She came to a photo that had both the brothers standing on either side of a very elaborate castle, both flexing and making silly faces into the camera.

Sighing, she put the pictures away. She was tempted to call Michael, but she had just talked with him over the weekend, and she knew he was getting tired of being the go-between. Not that she asked him to pass messages on to Lincoln, but she did expect him to watch out for and then report back to her on what was going on with his brother. She forced herself to always ask how Michael was, not because she didn’t care, but because she even sickened herself with how much she worried about Lincoln when he was really no longer her worry.

There hadn’t been a night in the last four months that she hadn’t cried herself to sleep. Jasmine was sick of it, and had been staying at her boyfriend’s place more and more because Veronica was basically inconsolable. She still went on with her life, in fact she was doing better in school than ever before because Lincoln wasn’t coming down on the weekends and disturbing her study schedule. But the fact remained that she thought about him every day, worried about him constantly, and at night when the lights went out, her heart bled through the tears that drenched her pillow. Some days she only barely started crying and she fell asleep, other times she would cry for an hour, a seemingly unstoppable force of nature.

Veronica Donovan without Lincoln Burrows was only partially functional. It made her sick that to no end was she able to get over him, and even Jasmine, who tended to be sympathetic, had forced her to go out on a few dates, but nothing had come of that. And for only one reason: her heart simply wasn’t available.

She had turned to grab her math book when she thought she heard her own name. A long, bellowing boom of sound came from the other side of her window, and she pulled the curtain back to see Lincoln, and Michael, out on the lawn, on the backside of the student-housing block. It was dark outside, but the streetlights gave enough visibility that she had no trouble figuring out who was shouting “Veronica Donovan” at the top of his lungs. She watched as Michael tugged on Lincoln’s arm, as though trying to reason with him that they should just go knock on the door, but Lincoln jerked free of Michael’s grasp and fell to his knees on the grass. It then occurred to Veronica that he was drunk. She pulled the window open and shouted across the 20 or so feet that separated them. “Lincoln, shut up!” 

She could see people all along the back poking their heads out their windows, and to her horror, the building across the quad on the other side had curious spectators looking out their doors and windows. “Michael,” she shouted, “do something.”

“Believe me, I thought I was doing something,” he yelled back at her. “The whole way here, I thought he was calming down, but pulling into your parking lot seemed to set him off even more. Get down here,” he advised, moving clear of Lincoln’s swinging arm. He had just attempted to pull Lincoln to his feet again, but he spread his arms wide and bellowed, “Veronica, I have to talk to you!”

“So, why don’t you try talking instead of braying like a jackass!?” she asked, harried, as she shut the window and ran to put her shoes on. 

By the time she got down to the bottom floor, out the door and around to the backside of the building, Michael had moved to meet her, but Lincoln was still in his placating stance some distance away. “He’s drunk, isn’t he?” she hissed at him as he approached her.

“For a while now, I guess,” Michael said, turning to stand next to her so they both could see Lincoln.

“You said he was all right when I talked to you on Saturday!” she said accusingly.

“As far as I knew he was all right. This started yesterday I guess. He’s pretty blubbery. It’s weird, I’ve only ever seen him get mean when he’s had too much to drink.”

Veronica marched across the yard, intending to grab him and force him to come inside, at least so the whole campus didn’t have a front row seat to this strange display. When she got to him though, and could see his face close up, she forgot that she was embarrassed. He wore a black button up shirt, but only the last three buttons were even clasped and the shirt hung open across his chest. His jeans were light-colored, and she knew the knees would be grass-stained. He hadn’t shaved in several days, so a solid layer of scruff obscured his cheeks and chin, but his eyes showed everything. His sorrow, his need, everything was right there for her to see, and even if the first words out of his mouth hadn’t been, “I’m so sorry, Vee,” she would have known just how he felt. 

His arms reached out to her, but she worried that he might maul her there in front of everyone, so she stayed a little more than arms-length from him. “Let’s go inside,” she said, reaching her hand out to touch his arm.

His eyes met hers, searching for something. He didn’t seem to be satisfied because he shook his head. “Vee…I want to tell you—“

“You can tell me inside, Lincoln,” she said, taking a couple steps closer, so she could touch his face. As she suspected, his arms wound around her middle, and he pressed his face into her belly. “Please, get up,” she said, tugging on the back of his shirt.

Unsteadily, he got to his feet, and she walked with him over to Michael. “That’s the calmest he’s been in hours. Do you want me to take him home?” Michael asked.

“No!” Lincoln said forcefully. His grip on her shoulder tightened painfully and she gasped, turning out of his embrace. “No, you said we could talk inside, Vee…” and to her surprise, she saw the tears that Michael had referred to as blubber just a moment before.

“We can go inside, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she said, petting his arm. “Michael, I’ll take care of him. You both can’t stay in my dorm, there’s not enough room…”

“I’ve got to get back, anyway, I have a test tomorrow I can’t miss,” Michael said. “I can come back and get him tomorrow?”

Veronica looked between the both of them, from Michael’s resignation to Lincoln’s desperation and she nodded. “Okay, do that. I’ll figure out something to do with him until then.”

“He should pass out soon, I’d think, he hasn’t slept from what I can tell and he’s been drinking since yesterday.”

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Lincoln said, his speech only at half speed.

Michael’s hand squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Well, it’s like you’re hardly here,” he said. To Veronica he said, “Good luck, and may the force be with you.” Then he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Call me if it gets bad, or call the police if you have to.”

“He’d never hurt me,” she said reproachfully.

“He’d never mean to hurt you,” Michael corrected. “Seems to me he’s spent a lifetime hurting you.”

 

**~**

 

When she finally got him up to her room, which was harder than she expected because of the stairs and his complete unsteadiness, she pushed him down on the bed and said, “Stay right there. I’m just getting a glass of water.”

She came out of the bathroom a minute later having drained one full glass herself because of the exertion, and then she put the glass in his hand and said, “If you want to talk to me, you need to drink this glass of water first.”

His eyes watched her with surprising clarity, and he drained the glass in two long drinks. Then he handed the glass back to her. She set it on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. He had stretched out, lying on his back, and she sat with her hip pressed to his thigh. She suddenly felt like a nurse. “What did you want to say?” she asked, when he just continued to stare at her.

“I love you, Vee.”

“Oh, Lincoln,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I already know that.”

“I want you back. And I’m sorry. And I’m an ass, and I’ll never do it again, and…” his arm shot out and wrapped around her, pulling her down on top of him. “Please, Vee, please, forgive me. I can’t do it without you, baby, I just can’t…” He tried to kiss her, but she got her arms between them and pushed herself up away from his chest. His grip was still amazingly strong, and he didn’t let her get away.

Besides the fact that he smelled like a brewery, she was not ready to let him kiss her and she highly doubted come tomorrow he would remember any of this anyway. “Lincoln, come on, let me go. I don’t want you to grope me right now.” He loosened his grasp and she settled back to her sitting position next to him. She toyed with the fingers of the hand he left resting on her hip and said softly, “You know I love you. You know I do. I’m also not the one who did the breaking up…”

“I know, I’m an ass—“

“Stop. Stop calling yourself names, Lincoln.” She found herself blinking back tears, not sure what she wanted to say. She had dreamed of him coming and begging for her, but it hadn’t been like this, and she didn’t like seeing him so defeated. The last time she’d seen him, that day at the jail when the guards had had to restrain him, she had seen the beginnings of a very broken man. Getting back together wouldn’t solve the problems, but she knew she didn’t know what would solve the problems. She looked away, trying to organize her thoughts, her hand still softly caressing his fingers. She had to be firm. She had to let him know she wasn’t angry with him anymore, but she didn’t want to get back together. 

Glancing up, she started to say just that, but he had fallen to sleep. His inky lashes shadowed his cheeks with feathery crescents and his head tilted slightly to the right, conforming to her pillow. He breathed deeply, and his body had relaxed, finally released from the burden of consciousness he had been under. Gently she stretched a hand up and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He murmured her name and settled even more deeply into her bed, as if he belonged there. Then, she knew. She could turn him away just as easily as she could cause her heart to stop beating. The thing was, he would leave and she would still call Michael every week and want to know what was going on. Or she could just accept that no matter what he did, she was no more likely to easily live without him than he was to live without her.

 

**~**

 

Lincoln awoke to drums beating at his temples and absolutely no idea where he was. In a panic, he sat up, only to greatly regret that because the room spun like a carnival ride. Pressing his hands flat down on the narrow bed he was on, he tried to get his bearings, and then he recognized Veronica’s dorm room. “Ah, fuckin’ a,” he muttered. He looked down and saw a piece of paper taped to his chest. Pulling it off, he turned it right side up so he could read it. I went to class. You’ve been sleeping for at least 12 hours. Take a shower, use the spare toothbrush and eat some of the fruit on my dresser. I’ll be back around one. ~Vee. He glanced up at the dresser where an apple, an orange and two plums sat. His stomach revolted at the image and he got up gingerly, making his way carefully into the bathroom.

As slow moving as his body was, his brain was doing the exact opposite. It searched for a memory, for a single thing to grasp on to that would give him a clue as to what had transpired the night before, but he couldn’t remember a damn thing. He had vague impressions of Michael and being outside somewhere shouting, but that was it, and even those were just impressions, not solid memories. The last solid thing he could recall was phoning Michael, hoping he would talk some sense into him, because he knew he was on the edge. He was so close to calling Veronica to ask her to take him back that he needed anyone with a brain to tell him not to do it.

Obviously Michael had been the wrong choice, because how else did he get here? He stripped his clothes off and stepped into Veronica’s tiny shower, the one place in her dorm that they had never had sex because you could literally only fit one decent sized person inside it. Lincoln was almost too big for it, himself, but he scrubbed his hair clean quickly and ran the bar of soap under his arms. 

Drying off a while later, he heard Veronica come back into the dorm and she called, “Lincoln?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he replied. But one minute turned into two, and then five and then ten. He got dressed and sat on the closed toilet fearing what awaited him out there. He might want to get back together, but that wasn’t the right thing, and he was bound and determined to do the right thing where Veronica was concerned. He might screw everything else up in his life, but this was the one thing he could get right. He just had to steel himself for the impact of seeing her, seeing her green eyes soft with concern, or sharpen with it when she realized he still hadn’t eaten anything yet. He brushed his teeth and was actually feeling marginally better when she knocked on the door.

“Linc?” There was a slight pause. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in, uh, another minute or two. Just a sec.” Finally he forced himself to open the door and face her. “Hey,” he said, and he could feel his face flushing. He hadn’t been embarrassed in front of a girl since he was 15.

She stood at her desk, unloading her backpack. She wore a purple t-shirt with a green and purple skirt that touched just below her knees. Glancing up, she smiled and said, “How’re you feeling?”

“All right,” he said, and before she could say anything, he snatched up one of the plums and took a bite.

“I called Michael a few minutes ago and he said he can’t get down here to get you until after five. So you’re sorta stuck until then.”

“Is that how I got here? Michael?” he asked, leaning up against the bathroom doorjamb.

“Yes, he drove you here. You don’t remember, huh?”

“No, so I apologize for whatever stupid thing I did.”

“You were just upset, that’s all. Michael brought you here because that’s what you wanted, and you calmed down once you were here.”

“With you,” he said, though it didn’t need to be said.

“I guess,” she said with a shrug. “It was probably just the alcohol flowing through your veins.”

He scrubbed at the back of his head. “Right, that’s probably what it was.” He tried to say it like he believed it. “I’m sorry, Vee, to have bothered you. You know, if I’d been thinking straight, I never woulda…”

“I know. It wasn’t really a bother, anyway. But I’m glad you look and feel better today.”

She sat down on the twin bed that wasn’t hers, and he realized it had been slept in. He had woken up in her bed, but she had slept in the other bed, unless… “Was Jasmine here for the show?” he asked.

“No, she’s hardly ever here anymore, has a new boyfriend.”

“So you slept in her bed?”

“Yeah. You were pretty stinky,” she said with a small laugh, pinching her nose briefly.

He forced a half smile then asked, “Why did you let me in here, Vee? You shoulda made Michael take me back.”

“You were upset,” she said again, with the same maddening shrug.

He busied himself by finishing the plum. He couldn’t keep looking at her, wondering what the hell it all meant, and why she would let him back into her life when he had been so awful. Did she love him that much? Was what they had more powerful than all the resistance he could ever exert? Would they always come back together like lodestone and metal? Could he expect that he would wake up every day for the rest of his fucking life missing her? “Shit,” he groaned aloud, the thoughts chasing through his brain like hornets. Leaning his head back tiredly on the wall, he almost forgot she was there until her voice came through his musings.

“Are you hungry, for real food? We can go to the cafeteria.” She stood up and walked past him to the dresser to get her purse. She looked up at him as she slung it over her head. “Lunch is still served for another hour.”

“No, Vee, I don’t need food.” He ran a hand over his stomach, still feeling slightly ill there, but then it rumbled loudly, making a liar out of him.

Veronica giggled. “Come on.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “I’ll treat,” she said, tugging him away from the wall.

Still a bit woozy, he wavered when he left his resting position against the wall. He turned his hand to grasp her arm. “Whoa,” he said softly. “Not so fast.”

Their eyes touched. Veronica’s head tipped back to accommodate the differences in their height and Lincoln felt a flash of hunger that had nothing to do with food. The crazy thing was she just kept moving closer to him instead of running away. “Baby…” it slipped out of his mouth and he felt every ounce of strength he’d tried to build up to keep himself from this moment leave his frame like a snake shedding its skin.

Her eyes focused on his lips, and her tongue peeked out, moistening her own. Lincoln felt a surge of blood rush though his body, and in one swooping move, his head dipped and his mouth was on hers. Instantly her arms surrounded his shoulders, pulling him tightly into her as her body arched up into his, bringing them into heated contact everywhere that counted. There was the rush of their breathing as it speeded up and the desperate grip of their hands and arms on each other, and for Lincoln, peace finally found his heart.

Her tongue thrust forward to meet his and the texture, and taste, and feel of her were so welcome and familiar that he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up against his chest. Her lips molded to his, her hands dug into his hair, holding him tightly to her. She kissed him with a hunger that almost outstripped his own, and he took two steps forward to bring them to the end of the bed. He dropped one knee down and laid her flat on her back, his fingers busy pushing her purse aside and her t-shirt up, while she shoved his shirt down his arms and yanked until he heard fabric tearing. Reaching back, he grabbed the back of the shirt and shucked it off over his head even though only one button still remained closed at the bottom.

Her hands opened wide on his chest, her fingers pressing soft caresses down the length of his torso. Their eyes met again, and while the fever burned brightly, they weren’t doing this mindlessly. His hands landed on the bed on either side of her head, bridging his body over hers. “Vee…if we do this…”

“It means we’re back together,” she said emphatically. Her fingers continued their downward trek and stopped at the snap of his jeans. Her eyes never left his as she undid his pants and slid her hand inside. Lincoln clenched his jaw, knowing that he’d have to be a much better man than he was to turn away now. Her fingers circled his cock, gripping him with a sure, steady stroke that nearly made him lose it right there. “I love you, Lincoln, and I never wanted to be apart anyway.”

“This is insane,” he muttered, the words sliding out unsteadily between his gritted teeth. “I’m no good for you, you know that, ahh, ahh, baby…” He threw his head back as her fingers traipsed across the most sensitive portion of his body. He reached between them and drew her hand away. “Stop, please, or it’ll be over before it gets started.”

Veronica was undeterred. Her arms simply rose to circle his neck, tugging him down, crushing her beneath him. His arms had no strength or resistance, but instead his hands moved around her face, touching her cheeks and her lips and then roving down her throat. He wanted to get his hands on her breasts, but they were currently cushioning his chest. She lifted up against him, one of her legs slipping between his so their lower bodies snugly interlocked. “Make love to me, Lincoln. Be with me,” she whispered against his lips.

“I haven’t been anywhere but here,” he confessed, his voice shaking. His greatest fear was that he’d drag her down with him because he couldn’t be happy without her. Not that he really understood happiness anyway, but it felt closer and possible if Veronica was there. 

He felt her hands between them again, only now she was pulling her skirt up. “Lift up,” she instructed and he did, and she quickly tugged her panties down and slid her hands into the back of his pants and underwear, pushing them far enough down so that their bare skin could make contact. He finally started helping her instead of just staring lustfully into her eyes and when no fabric remained to separate them, he felt an overwhelming sense of rightness flood him. Why was she the only thing that brought the quiet? Why was Veronica the answer to everything?

He slid an arm under her leg, pulling it up to give himself access to her soft core. She gasped in anticipation, but Lincoln backed off her completely. “What are you doing?” she asked, when he pushed both her legs up so they were pinned between their chests and then draped them over his shoulders. Then he sank slowly into her and the sound that escaped her throat egged him on like nothing else. “Oh, Lincoln,” she breathed.

“Feel me,” he whispered, but the words were a command. He thrust with force and in this position, he felt as though he was further inside her than he ever had been before. “Deep. Yeah, there, there. Feel me,” he said. “My baby,” he sighed. Veronica’s hands slid into his hair and she lifted her mouth to his. They kissed passionately while their bodies communed. Lincoln felt sensation spreading through his body and worried he was about to leave her behind. He tore his mouth from hers, trying to gauge where she was, but when their eyes met again, hers were wet with tears. “Vee…”

“I love you,” she said and her back arched, pulling him inherently closer both physically and mentally. His emotions spiraled and he began moving wildly, pushing them both to the brink in a short amount of time. When his release was imminent, tears came from his eyes, too, flowing freely, inside her, with her, over her, completely in sync. Their lips met again and his tongue penetrated deeply, and all the parts of himself he could give, he gave to her willingly.

 

**~**

 

Lincoln pulled away from her and collapsed on the bed next to her. Sitting up, Veronica tugged her purse off and threw it on the floor, and then turned so that she could tuck herself into his arms, still crying softly. She felt his tears against her cheek too, and she grasped him tightly, holding him as close as she could. One of his hands plowed into her hair, and the other cupped her bottom to carry her with him as he rolled on to his back.

They didn’t talk for a long time. There were no words for what they shared, for what they had been through to bring them to this point, but Veronica knew that they would keep on, in their imperfect way. She knew she could never give up, never stop fighting for what they could be, or for what they could have.

Eventually Lincoln’s hand stilled in her hair and he asked gruffly, “Did I apologize at all last night?”

Lifting her head, Veronica looked into his eyes. “Very profusely, and you told me you love me and that you can’t live without me. And my favorite, that you want me back. So now you have what you want.”

She knew she was being smug, but the corners of his mouth kicked up and he laughed. “Thanks,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. “Vee,” he said, his voice turning serious. His hand cupped her cheek and held her still under a searching gaze. “Is this what you want? Really, to be with me, when I—“

She put her finger against his lips. “Don’t. Don’t recount all the things about yourself that I should be wary of. Lincoln, those things are the things that bother you, about you, not me. You’ve been quite good at keeping certain aspects of yourself hidden from me, haven’t you?”

She saw the mask start to slip down over his features, the hardening of his expression almost happening instantly. “There are things about me you need to be protected from,” he said stubbornly.

“There are things you need to quit doing, that’s all.” He sighed heavily, and she knew he didn’t see that as the solution at all. “Look, do I nag you? Do I insist you stop doing this or start doing that? No. That’s not me. But you nag yourself, and then you turn it around on me when we argue.” She moved back, sitting up, to straddle his stomach. “Here’s the bottom line, okay? I love you. I want to be with you. I’ve wanted it since I was a little girl, and I don’t think that’s ever going to change, so deal with it. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s your choice, but don’t ever think that this is somehow going to change. This is me. Veronica loves Lincoln. End of story.”

“You know I want to be with you,” he said, his voice quiet. Folding his arms behind his head, he eyed her for a few silent moments. “I need you, Vee. I need you so much, and I can’t help think…no one sticks around for me, you know.”

“I’ve always stuck around for you, Linc. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you…I, oh, hell. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Don’t explain it, just stop worrying about it. I’m here, and I’ll always be here. This is right where I want to be.” Her voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Right here.” She shifted back a little and tugged her t-shirt off over her head. Dropping it over the side of the bed, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it drop down on to his stomach. His eyes had abandoned her face and now traced the lines of her exposed body. She reached for his hands and covered her breasts with them; her breath escalated as the calloused warmth of his palms gently abraded her nipples. She leaned into his hands and rubbed herself over him, feeling his response growing beneath her. “Veronica loves Lincoln,” she repeated, locking her eyes with his.

He surged up under her, his body coming upright and his arms circled her waist. Their lips met and he breathed against her skin, “Lincoln loves Veronica.”


End file.
